The cart lurches so violently I have to grip the side to keep my teeth from chattering. The road is nothing but stone and dust.
Josh leans forward slightly, squinting at the horizon.
"With my eyes, I can see three red things…" he says mysteriously.
I follow the direction of his gaze to an arrow-shaped sign with carved figures, a little distance away.
"They're the wooden birds on the sign. And there are four of them. The paint on one is peeling."
"Birds? I think they're rats." He turns his head toward his father, who is driving the cart.
"Dad, do you see them?"
His father doesn't even turn his head, just keeps a firm grip on the reins.
"I see the road, Josh."
His voice is steady, but not angry. I had already heard his name before—when the bartender finally introduced himself as we left town.
Doug.
The cart continues forward, and the sign grows larger, the four carved birds becoming clearer.
MISTRAL — 120 KM
"Wow… they really are birds."
I think we're still two or three days away from the capital… not counting the stops to sleep, rest the horses, and the…
Grimm…
What if a Grimm appears?! I got lucky with that Boarbatusk—they're dumb and weaker than most Grimm, and they usually travel alone. But what if a pack of Beowolves shows up? Or worse… an Ursa!
And it's not just the Grimm… there are also Raven's bandits and the White Fang… but I'd rather not think about them.
I should have stayed in Roca Town the moment I heard they wanted to go to the capital by cart.
What kind of lunati—
Margaret's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"What great eyesight you have!" Margaret says.
"It's nothing special." I shrug, trying to sound indifferent.
For me, it isn't anything special, obviously.
Still, it's nice when people acknowledge the obvious.
"There's a rabbit running through the grass over there," I say, pointing ahead. "Near that dark rock."
"And there's a lizard sunning itself on that fallen log."
Josh squints.
"Okay, now you're making things up."
I shrug.
"I'm just saying what I see."
I'm about to point out something else when Margaret cuts in again:
"Whitley, are you training to become a Huntsman? I almost didn't believe Doug when he told me you had Aura."
That catches me off guard.
How does he know I have Aura?
"Doug, how did you—"
"Which preparatory academy do you go to? It must be in the capital, right? You said your mother is there, so you must be there too, right? And how did you end up in Roca Town? And—"
So many questions.
I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to keep up.
I can't.
"Do you interrogate every kid you meet on the road?" I ask.
Josh lets out a short laugh.
Margaret shoots him a look that makes him go quiet.
Doug suddenly joins the conversation.
"Margaret, give the kid a break."
"I'm just curious."
"Too much curiosity can be exhausting too."
She sighs but gives in, moving to one corner of the cart and pulling Josh with her.
Weird.
Doug lets out a small sigh.
"She's a good person, but sometimes she asks so many questions my head starts to hurt."
I glance back quickly.
Margaret is already talking to Josh, who seems to be only half listening.
The cart continues along the stone road.
After a few seconds of silence, I look at him again.
"So… how do you know I have Aura?"
Doug turns his head toward me and raises an eyebrow, as if I had asked something strange.
"Well… I looked at you?"
Is he messing with me?
I must have made a face, because he lets out a small laugh.
"You can't have awakened it long ago," he says. "So… how can I explain it…"
Doug pauses for a moment, lightly tapping the reins against his leg.
"It's kind of… a feeling."
"A feeling?"
"When someone has Aura, you can sense it." He shrugs. "Especially if you have it too."
I stay silent for a moment.
So he knew from the beginning.
Doug looks back at the road.
"It's nothing very special," he continues. "Hunters notice it all the time—especially in battle, when Aura becomes visible, changes color as it weakens, or when someone uses a Semblance."
If it's nothing special, then I should be able to see it too.
I look at him more carefully.
Doug keeps holding the reins, completely focused on the road, as if the conversation is already over for him.
I squint.
For a moment, it seems like there's something there.
Not exactly light.
More like a faint yellow glow around him… almost invisible.
I blink.
And it's gone.
…Maybe I'm just imagining things.
Doug speaks without even looking at me:
"You'll strain your eyes like that."
I turn my head quickly.
"I wasn't doing anything."
He snorts softly.
"Uh-huh."
.---.---.---.
We decided to take a break before it got completely dark. Doug pulled the cart off the road and stopped near a cluster of trees where the ground was flatter. After hours on that rocky road, climbing down from the cart already felt like a relief.
I climbed down with my backpack and went to sit under a tree to escape the afternoon sun. The heat still clung to my skin even though the sun was already low on the horizon, painting everything in shades of orange and gold.
I leaned back against the rough trunk, feeling the bark scratch lightly against my shirt—nothing compared to the hellish jolting of the cart, but still irritating.
Margaret and Josh were already unloading things: blankets, an old pot, and packs of dried food. She talked nonstop about how much fresher the air felt there, while Josh replied with monosyllables, clearly more interested in finding something to eat.
Doug finished tying the horses and walked toward the tree carrying an empty bucket. He stopped a few meters away, looking at me as if expecting something.
"Aren't you going to help?" he asked, his voice neutral.
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual.
"I took my backpack off the cart, didn't I?"
He stood still without blinking. Then he crossed his arms and spoke more slowly, his voice low but firm.
"Either you help, or you sleep out in the cold with an empty stomach. Your choice."
I stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he would actually go through with it.
He's probably a retired Hunter. He has Aura, can sense mine without effort, and still travels alone through roads and forests that could be full of Grimm.
My father used to say that Huntsmen were crazy barbarians. He might have been an asshole, but he wasn't stupid…
… I think.
Better not take the risk.
I gave him a polite smile—the kind Jacques Schnee would give—and said:
"I was just joking. What do you need me to do?"
Doug didn't return the smile. He simply handed me the bucket.
"There's a stream behind those trees. Fill the bucket, then help Margaret with the blankets."
I took the bucket, stood up without another word, and went.
The stream was close. I filled the bucket with water, came back, and helped Margaret set up the tents and spread the blankets.
I ate the hot soup Doug prepared—or at least tried to.
Pretend it's a pancake, Whitley. Just pretend.
I answered with "yes," "no," and "maybe" whenever Josh tried to talk about something. The fire slowly died down. Margaret and Josh lay down first. Doug stayed on his rock, watching the darkness. I was the last to lie down.
The thin blanket didn't do much against the cold rising from the ground, but exhaustion won.
…
"YOU KILLED THEM!"
No. I only killed you. I already told you the rest wasn't my fault.
Her voice echoed in my head before I even saw her face—the Faunus from the White Fang I had killed.
The nightmare came like always: the shattered ship and me killing her.
Why are nightmares always more detailed than dreams?
I woke with a short breath, my heart pounding but already under control. Cold sweat on the back of my neck, my chest rising and falling slowly.
I didn't sit up. I stayed where I was, watching the stars through the branches above.
I slowly rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my shoulder.
Before I could close my eyes and drift back into the nightmares, I saw a pair of red eyes staring at me from the bushes.
My hand moved slowly toward my backpack, fingers brushing the fabric as they searched for the shape of the pistol.
But the Beowolf was faster.
It burst from the shadows in a gray blur, fangs bared, its growl turning into a short roar.
The pistol had barely cleared the backpack when the monster was already lunging straight at me, claws extended, its fangs aimed at my neck. There was no time—and even if there had been, it wouldn't have mattered.
I froze.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
That's it.
I'm dead.
But the impact never came.
A sharp sound of a blade cutting through flesh.
A heavy thud hitting the ground.
I opened my eyes.
The Grimm's severed head lay on the ground, its skeletal body cracking and dissolving into smoke.
"I'm alive?" I whispered.
Doug stood there, machete in his right hand, the blade dripping a dark residue that evaporated before it could fall.
"I don't know. Are you?"
He shrugged, wiped the machete on his pants with a quick motion, and slid it back into its sheath.
Margaret woke with a start, and Josh mumbled something in confusion. Doug waved his free hand without even turning around.
"Everything's under control. Go back to sleep."
They grumbled and turned over again.
My hand was still gripping the pistol tightly, my fingers white from how hard I was holding it.
Doug sat back down on his rock, his back against the tree. He looked at the ground for a second, then glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
"You could've killed the Grimm, you know?"
"Are you kidding?" I replied, my voice hoarse and low. "I couldn't even raise the gun. It was already on top of me when I pulled it out of the backpack."
"If it had bitten you, it would've taken a little while before it managed to break through your Aura. You could've… I don't know, shot it. Or even hit it with the gun."
"I didn't think of any of that," I admitted.
Doug nodded.
"You can go back to sleep too, if you want."
.---.---.---.
I didn't sleep at all. I spent the whole night worried that a Grimm would show up and decide to sample my soft and delicious body.
Instead, I curled up against the tree with my gun in hand, finger near the trigger, eyes fixed on the dark forest.
Of course, I also spent some time playing around with my Aura to pass the time. I discovered that I can cover my pistol with it, but if I fired, the bullets probably wouldn't come out infused with Aura.
It would probably work better with some kind of close-range weapon.
Even so, now that I have it, I still think it's beautiful and fascinating. Mine is a soft shade of light blue, almost white.
They say it's your soul protecting you, but that never made sense to me. Shouldn't the body be the one protecting the soul?
Now I can also see and feel Doug's Aura. It's not as complicated as I thought it would be. It's just not something you can do on the first try. His is a steady yellow, constant, like an old lamp that never goes out.
Mine is cooler.
While I was looking at him, other questions started popping into my head.
Does it grow over time? Like, the more I use it, the thicker the layer becomes? Or does it have a fixed limit?
I looked at my hand. The pale blue glow was still there—faint, but visible if I focused.
Do I have a lot of it? Or just a little?
Doug's Aura doesn't seem that different from mine. If I ask him some questions, would he answer?
The sky slowly brightened. Gray turned into blue. A bird started singing.
Doug stood up and stretched his back.
"Wake the others. I'll pack things up."
"Sure."
.---.---.---.
And we were back on the cart that tortures my poor backside.
The sun was still low when we set off again. The morning air was cold, but the road remained the same mix of dust, rocks, and suffering.
Doug held the reins with the same calm as always, as if almost becoming Grimm food in the middle of the night had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
The questions from last night hadn't gone away. If anything, they were louder now, with the daylight and the constant rocking of the cart.
I took a deep breath. I didn't want to sound desperate—or stupid. But if I didn't ask, the thoughts would keep spinning in my head all day.
"Doug," I said quietly, so Margaret and Josh wouldn't hear.
He didn't turn around, only tilted his head slightly.
"Hm?"
You used to be a Huntsman, right? Or something related. Could you answer a few questions about Aura for me?"
He stayed quiet for a few seconds before letting out a short sigh.
"Sure. But if it's something too complicated, I'll pretend I didn't hear it."
Perfect.
"Do I have a lot of Aura?"
Doug smirked slightly.
"You've got a decent amount."
"Decent?"
"More than most people."
Nice.
"Can it grow in the future?"
Doug thought for a moment before answering.
"A little… but it's difficult."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Aura isn't a muscle," Doug said. "It can grow a little over time—through fighting and using it a lot—but nobody just doubles the amount they have."
He said my Aura was slightly above average, so maybe I don't need to worry too much about that.
"What happens when Aura runs out?"
Doug shrugged.
"You're about as vulnerable as someone without Aura."
He paused for a moment before adding:
"Some people pass out… but that's usually just inexperience."
"And Semblances? When do I awaken mine?"
Doug went silent.
The cart rolled over another stretch of rocky road, the wheels creaking softly while the horses kept their steady pace.
He scratched his beard for a moment, like he was looking for an answer he didn't have.
"I don't know," he finally said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Doug shrugged again.
"I never awakened one."
That caught me off guard.
"Seriously?"
"It happens."
He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road.
"Not everyone with Aura ends up developing a Semblance."
I almost died just to get my Aura, and there's still a chance I might never awaken a Semblance?
I'd like to be able to breathe fire… but mine would probably be the Schnee family's inherited Semblance:
Glyphs and summoning.
Not bad…
But breathing fire still sounds more interesting.
.---.---.---.
I got addicted.
If I had known having Aura was this fun, I would have begged Winter or my mother to unlock mine.
Well… not my mother.
It's been about three days since we left Roca Town—perfect name for that place—and I've discovered a few more things about Aura.
Besides increasing all my physical attributes, I can also focus it on a specific part of my body.
When I do that, the strength and defense of that area increase much more than when my Aura is normally spread across my body.
One example was when I jumped over the town wall.
Doug asked what I was doing, but I didn't say anything.
No way I'm letting him steal my tricks.